


Clawed Trials

by SalemSkies



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Dog - Freeform, Dogs, Dogs of Vanfauld, Gen, Short One Shot, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalemSkies/pseuds/SalemSkies
Summary: Rocco, a young male dog, was sent to explore the ruins of the city for a trial to prove himself worthy of being a Claw. But one who doesn't know their landscape is bound to be lost...Also for a really neat rp place! I suggest you check it out.RP server; https://discord.gg/Xdr9z2D





	Clawed Trials

On the edge of today, howls of canines fill the air. Bleariness fills the eyes of a light brown dog. Their eyes fluttering open, the sound of the howls filling the dog’s ears, their mind waking as more stimulation fills it. Cold air wafts around the medium small dark eyed dog causing the dog to shiver. Curling up a little more, the dog fills it’s mind with hopes of warmth.

A sharp jab on the dog’s rib left tingling pain throughout the dog, who whimpers and looks up. A larger, much stronger dog stood over them. Uncurling themself, the dog rolls over in a submissive gesture. Showing the belly to the intruder of their sleep.

The dog growls, saying through grit teeth, “Rocco. Get up now, this is no time for dawdling.” The light brown dog, Rocco, rolls back over, glancing away from the dog in order to avoid eye contact. Standing up on their unsteady legs, Rocco glances towards the larger dog.

Whimpering out, “S-sorry Nevada Claw… I’m getting up” Rocco starts to trail out of the den. They glance back to the dark coloured dog, Nevada. “O-out this way, s-sir? O-or…?” Rocco trails on, their voice squeaky with fear.

Nevada rolls his eyes, before trotting past Rocco, his voice fluttering around Rocco, passing them, “Scarlet Crest wants to see you. You’re lucky she has to wait for you, otherwise you’d be alone again. Count your blessings now, sonny” Rocco freezes at the mention of Scarlet, letting his head drop down, ears pinning down like he had floppy ears.

“A-alpha? S-she wants to see m-me?” Rocco asks, whispering as his fur prickles fear. Nevada turns his head around, leveling his gaze onto Rocco. Letting out a sigh, Nevada gathers up words.

“Yes. As for all tenderclaws who are overdue on their training. You are uncoordinated and a mess. You are as useful as a dead coyote.” Nevada snaps, Rocco recoils, his tail now curling under his body. Nevada continues, “What would an outsider think of the pack? A pack that keeps a pack birthed trainee who is bearfodder. Not once proving themselves and becoming a Claw or something useful?” Rocco averts his gaze, holding his head down as he trails after the now moving Nevada.  
Padding past cold stones of the pack’s den site, Rocco follows Nevada to the crag upon which the pack’s Alphas, or Crests sat. A red merle dog sits there, watching Rocco carefully. The dog, leveling her gaze on Nevada, hops down from the crag created perch. “What did you do to make him scared to pieces. He’ll be hare-hearted through it all now.” The dog snaps, sniffing the air as though contempt were rising in them.

Nevada turns his gaze away before saying, “S-sorry Scarlet Crest, I… I told him what the pack thought of him.” The crest stares right at Nevada, a glare forming, and with that, Nevada moves his head down, a gesture of submissiveness.

Scarlet stays quiet for a moment, listening to Nevada, before speaking more, her voice rattling with scratchiness, “Scaring a Tenderclaw ripe for trial increases the odds of death. We need all the Claws we can get, especially in the Frigid season. Spirits, a pack is a pack. Pack is family, and here you are, scaring our family.” Nevada looks as though he were trying to hide his emotions, but he was failing, guilt seeping into his expression.

“I’m sorry Sca-” He starts to say, but Scarlet gave him a glare.

“Sorry doesn’t catch prey. Go join Heath Crest, He’ll be guiding the pack for the hunt tonight. I will talk to Rocco Tenderclaw.” Scarlet barks out, her voice full of command, putting emphasis on Tenderclaw as if respect should be demanded for Rocco. Nevada nods, starting to pad off, his head keeping down. Scarlet sighs before rotating her head to look at Rocco. “Come on, Rocco dear.” She states, beckoning Rocco to follow her with her tail. From there, they start moving, leaving the pack’s den site.

Rocco quietly follows Scarlet, keeping a far distance. His paws cold from walking in the snow. The further they walk, the more distant the pack’s den site. He looks a bit terrified, moving his head to look behind him, he starts to vocalize his concern, “Y-you…I… er... talk?” word forming was a bit hard with fear still dancing in him. Scarlet looks back to Rocco at the sound of him speaking.

“I talk, you talk.” She barks out, amusement light in her voice. “I suppose you’re asking about the talk I said we’d have?” Rocco looks around the wild landscape, trees sprouting from snow on roller paths abandoned long ago. The light brown male looks up to Scarlet and nods. Scarlet smiles lightly, saying, “About that, I only wish to speak to you about the conditions and how the trial works.”

Rocco tilts his head, curiosity flickering up in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, expressing a quiet, “I-is that all to talk about?” Scarlet turns her head to look forward where she puts steps into the snow, if she heard Rocco, she made no response.

Only a while later did they come to a stop. Scarlet looks up at the sky, seeming to think for a little, speaking now, “For your trial, Heath Crest decided to put you through a blizzard. I disagree, but when we can try and predict weather to a near accuracy, it’s bound to happen. It’s a bit rigged, but try to figure out an advantage.” She pauses, her attention fixating on Rocco, who keeps his head down, listening carefully. The blue eyed Crest seeming to be thinking.

She picks up her words once more, advising Rocco, “I’d suggest you explore the abandoned no fur dens surrounding us. Warmth is your best bet alone. You must be out here without the pack for 3 sunfalls, heading back at the time the sun eats the moon. In other words, sunrise. Try to keep it short, a moon phase and we’ll consider you dead.” Rocco lifts his head, nodding, understanding. Scarlet smiles worriedly, vocalizing a wish well statement, “May the spirits keep you warm. Please come back safe.”

Scarlet turns away, starting to pad off, Rocco standing behind her, not moving, working courage up. Lifting his head, he spoke, “I… I hope I come back! May the spirits keep you warm as well Alpha!” Scarlet rotates her head to make eye contact with Rocco, giving a light smile. Rocco gives a bigger smile before spinning around to explore.

As the sun falls to night, Rocco climbs into a no fur den, tall, almost like a skytoucher. Sniffing around, Rocco shivers at the cold wind. Wind blew harshly, even more than when he was left here. Rocco shakes his head, ignoring the cold. The smell of the abandoned No fur den was musky, and quite frankly disgusting in Rocco’s book. He turns his head, spinning around the room, darting from place to place. Sniffing each thing, Rocco decided upon a wet nest. A nest made of old day wool.

The rest Rocco wishes for that night, was not so. Not much longer after he falls to the grasps of sleep, to which he awakes to another canine like creature. He shivers at the cold wind, and the canine is inching closer. Rocco lets out a whimper, fear drenching everything, coldness of the wind adding to his shivering fear. The canine turns its full gaze on it. At that moment, Rocco knows it’s a coyote. The pack always warned against coyotes. Shaking his head, Rocco tries to dart out of the no fur den, slamming into a wall before picking himself up again, he looks back, the coyote looking rather excited. Rocco jumps out a broken transparent sheet.

Darting through the alleys’ of Vanfauld, the name of the former city, Rocco glances back, constantly seeing the coyote on his tail. Uttering words of frustration and fear, “Pain in the tail coyote” being one of them, Rocco sharply turned a corner, ending up face first in an old scat dump. He turns to see the coyote skidding past before turning around and running toward him. Rocco falters, fear keeping him still. The coyote bows, in a play bow position, barking, as if to say come play. Rocco turns his head away, averting his dark eyes from the coyote

Rocco gathers his composure together, shaking his head to the coyote who tilts their head. This pause in death chase allows the poor dog to take a breather. Rocco swallows, gulping as much air as he can before spinning on his feet, running, turning corners and letting his insides burn. Rocco had to lose this coyote. This is like a maze without knowing the city.

Leaping up onto a scat dump, the old metal rusting off with time, Rocco could get a view of the coyote. The coyote seems to be bright, healthy, and not even tired. Rocco shakes his head, looking for a way out. He spots a way to the neighboring packs’ territory. He shivers at the thought of coming across them, but decides in a split moment. When the coyote leaps up onto the scat dump he stood upon, he hops off, snow splashing around him. An idea hits Rocco at the sight of the snow splashing like water.

Kicking up snow while running on fear and instinct is no easy feat, but Rocco pulled it off. Darting past scat dumps, small cylinder tin ones to large square ones. Rocco passes the brook crossing, a crumbling concrete mess. Rocco starts to sprint, bringing his paws to cross the border of pack territories. Yesterday in Rugged Mountain territory, tomorrow in Cascading River territory.

Rocco silently tries praying to the spirits of the sky that he’d be fine, hoping that he could get someone to help him. Jumping down the bluffs of the island that marked the border of the territories, he slips, sliding down ice covered waters. Looking back to where he just was, he could see the coyote is still chasing after him. Rocco whimpers, there was no way he was going to make this out alive… He was never meant to become a Claw.


End file.
